Guitars, Drums, and Rock Salt
by LadyMadonnasBaby
Summary: Dean and Sam find themselves in a strange time with strange people. My first story, so please be kind and review!
1. Chapter 1

Guitars, Drums, and Rock Salt

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sammy, or the other four lads in this story. This is my first fic, so please be kind!

Dean and Sam Winchester parked their 1967 Chevy Impala outside yet another cheap, grungy motel for the night. The white paint was slowly becoming more gray than white, and the office windows were dark and uninviting. They both desperately needed showers as they had spent most of the previous two days in the sewers hunting leads that went nowhere.

"You check in, I'll get our stuff," Dean said as he stifled a yawn. "I can't handle someone thinking we're a couple tonight."

"Sure, whatever," Sam said, getting out his wallet. "Our name this time will be... Waters." He took out the appropriate credit card and approached the office where he got the room key.

Dean called dibs on the shower as soon as they entered their shabbily furnished room and grabbed some clothes out of his duffel bag as he rushed to the bathroom.

Sam was left in the main room by himself. He decided to see if he could make heads or tails of some of the rougher entries in his dad's journal. He settled on the bed nearest the door and listened to the shower, knowing Dean was enjoying it as he sat there feeling disgusting and inhuman.

Sam got halfway through the first entry he had chosen when the water finally stopped. He sighed, stretching his back and marking his place in the journal, making some last notes. He got out some clean clothes and waited for his brother to make his entrance.

Sam sighed in exasperation when Dean finally stepped out of the bathroom, allowing billows of steam to escape with him.

"Please tell me you left some hot water for the rest of the world, Dean," Sam said, grabbing his clothes on the way to the shower.

"Sure. You know me, Sammy," Dean smiled at his little brother. "Always thinking of others, that's me. You going through Dad's journal again?"

Sam looked down at the journal, notebook, and laptop all in a neat pile on his bed. "Yeah," he said with a shrug, "just trying to decipher some of Dad's chicken-scratch. Do NOT touch it, Dean, OK? It'll take me forever to find my place in there."

Dean gave him the best look of innocence he could muster, but Sam just shook his head and made his way to the bathroom for a blessed shower.

Dean flipped the TV on, but there was nothing worth watching, since they didn't get cable; just the basic stations from the dawn of television. So he found his eyes wandering over to the neat little pile on Sammy's bed, just waiting for him to mess with.

When the water had been running for a safe amount of time, Dean gave in to his darker impulses and bounded over to Sammy's anal pile of research. First, he was going to confuse Sammy's place in the journal, as that would get the best reaction out of him. Then he would progress to dirty notes in the margins of that dull black-and-white marble notebook Sammy had taken to carrying around. Who knows? Maybe he'd even sign Sammy up for MySpace, since Sammy never told him it _wasn't_ a porn site.

Dean checked what entry Sam was looking at, as even Dean couldn't handle the amount of hostility that would come from really losing Sam's place. There was a drawing of a snake with the heads of a man, a bull, and a lion.

He noticed the Greek lettering underneath the picture. He knew enough Greek to sound it out, but he had no idea what it said. He just shrugged and took the receipt that Sammy had been using as a bookmark and pocketed it.

Now time for the notebook. Dean grabbed the pen from the night stand as he heard the shower turn off. _Guess I didn't leave as much hot water for him as I thought._ He settled down to business with the pen and ideas from his downstairs brain.

As he was searching for a proper place to start, he became distracted by the translation Sammy had done of the snake caption. Sam stormed out of the bathroom fully clothed with his hair dripping wet just as Dean laughingly read, "O great Chronus, first-born lord of time and space, I ask of you a boon, to go to a time of song and place of fun, that I may show my brother what pleasure truly means."

"Dean, stopཀ What are you--?" Sam was interrupted by a whirling sensation like he was being flushed down a toilet. He thought he heard a deep voice say, "Thus do I grant... this groovy favor for you, babyཀ"

When he could bear the thought of opening his eyes, he noticed he was flat on his back next to his brother on a concrete floor. There were also four faces staring down at him, all looking perplexed at his sudden appearance on the floor of their living room.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: snfan228 - Thank you for being my first reviewer! The "strange guys" Sam and Dean meet aren't who you are expecting, but they will be mentioned. ;)

Please review my first story!

"Where do you think they came from, Mike?" asked a young man with brown hair as Sam and Dean slowly raised themselves to sitting positions.

"Yeah, and why are they on our floor?" piped up a small Englishman hiding behind a tall guy in a green wool hat.

"Isn't it obvious?" said the only blonde guy with a self-satisfied look on his face. "They needed to borrow a cup of sugar, but didn't want to wake us up. So they waited in the living room to ask us."

Dean gave him a weird look and stood up. Sam followed him up and noticed the three dark-haired guys giving the blonde a look just as confused as Dean's.

"Before we interrupt a family squabble," Dean said, "we'd like to know where we are and how we got here."

"Look, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean. He gets cranky when he wakes up in strange places." Sam gave Dean a significant look. He had recognized these guys as the Monkees, who they listened to as kids.

"Oh, well, Peter understands all about that," said the little Englishman. "He went to bed one time and woke up in the kitchen cooking eggsཀ"

"Don't tell them that, Davy," said the man with the hat, "they won't want to stay here with sleepwalking cooks. I'm Mike, and the crazy one there is Micky. We're the Monkees."

Sam said, "Yeah, I've heard of you." He saw Micky pick up Dean's cell phone from the floor and start dissecting it.

"Crazy? You von't call _me_ crazy vhen I'm through vith this," Micky said in a bad German accent, holding the reassembled phone high above his head.

"Hey, give me that," said Dean, snatching it back to make sure it still worked. "I don't got a signal, Sam."

"If you don't mind my asking," interrupted Davy, "what is that thing? It sort of looks like a phone, but there's no wire."

All of a sudden, Mike, Micky, Peter, and Davy were in telephone repairman uniforms. Mike grabbed the phone from Dean's shocked hand and plunked it on the mini operating table that had just appeared.

"Well, now, gentleman, let's see if we can't fix this thing up as a workable, usable telephone," Mike said, raising a hammer to smash on the phone. Sam came to the rescue.

"That's OK, no need for that," he said, grabbing the phone before the hammer could connect with it. "Dean, we need to get out of here," he directed at his brother quietly.

"No, don't leave, guys," Micky cried, looping an arm around both of them. "You just appear out of nowhere with futuristic technology? The FBI will come after you for sureཀ Besides, do you actually have a place to stay?"

The brothers had to admit no, they didn't. Dean asked as they were making sleeping arrangements, "So you guys really never saw a cell phone before? I thought some people we've met were out of touch, but this is ridiculousཀ Next, you'll tell me you don't believe in the moon landing."

A loud cricket began chirping as Sam stifled his laughter. He grinned at the expressions on everyone's faces and looked forward to what was coming next.

"Who landed on the moon?" asked Davy as Peter chased the chirping cricket with a butterfly net. "When did they land? We never heard about this."

"Maybe it was when the Beatles appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show the first time," Micky said, holding the cricket Peter was hunting.

"That explains Davy not remembering it, but what about the rest of us?" said Mike, Sam and Dean ignored for the moment.

Sam snorted and had to turn away at Dean's face as he asked, "What are you guys talking about? It happened in 1969, not 1964." All Dean got in answer was the loud cricket again. Peter threw his butterfly net over Micky's head, finally capturing the cricket.

"Uh... 1969?" Micky said as he got himself free. "The year is 1966. You're from the _future_, aren't you?" He triumphantly thrust his finger in the air, poking Mike in the eye in the process.

"Don't do that," Mike deadpanned. He turned to Sam, who was laughing out loud by now, and asked, "So, is it true? Are you from the future?"

Dean looked Sam in the eye and said, "Dude, we're _screwed_."

"Whose fault is that, Dean?" said Sam, going from mirth to annoyance at his brother's gross understatement of their situation. "You should've known--"

Sam was interrupted by a crash of tambourines landing hard on Davy's head, like a crown. "Owཀ Guys," said Davy, as he removed his instrument, "what just happened?"

Before they could even move towards Davy, guitars and cymbals started flying at their heads from the bandstand at the back of the room.

They tried to escape their flying instruments, running around and around the main room of their pad and yelling. Sam and Dean, meanwhile, hid behind the spiral staircase.

"OK, standard haunting. You," said Dean, poking Sam in the chest, "how do you know these guys? You been holding out on me about something?"

Sam smiled. "Remember that old goofy TV show I used to watch about a band? You thought it was MTV when you were 8. Well, this is them."

Dean's eyes widened in realization. "You mean it was real?"

"I guess so. Come on, let's check on the band." Sam looked out to see the instruments were settled on the bandstand with the Monkees gathered around them, scratching their heads.

"So, this sort of thing happen often?" asked Dean, clapping Mike on the back. This caused all four Monkees to scream and jump about a foot in the air.

When they recovered, Micky squeaked, "No." He cleared his throat and said in a ridiculously deep voice, "Uh, not really."

"We could probably help you with this," Sam said, looming over Davy. Davy jumped at the appearance of a 6'4ཁ body near his 5'3ཁ one and ran to the kitchen area.

"Really? You could?" asked Mike as everyone moved to the kitchen to check on Davy. He was putting ice on his head where his tambourine had landed. "You're not going to ask us to sign a contract, are you? We usually have problems with those."

"We don't really work that way," said Sam, carefully avoiding Dean's eye. "We don't charge for what we do." Dean was giving Sam the evil eye now, so Sam shut up just in time to get tackled by all four Monkees.

"You're not taking our money? Yayཀ" They all danced around Sam, completely ignoring Dean. Davy's ice pack flew through the air and landed squarely on Dean's head, making him even more annoyed than he already was.

"Yeah, yeah, we're so saintly." Dean grabbed the ice off his head and flung it in the sink full of plastic dishes with "DIRTY" written on them. "Sam, let's go. We got research to do. Let's go geek it up at the library, huh?"

"At the library?" said Micky, peeling himself away from the dancing. "We'll hold down the fort here, then. Right, guys?" There was a chorus of "yeah's" as the rest of the band stopped trying to lift Sam to their shoulders, dropping him to the floor.

Dean offered Sam his hand and pulled him from the ground. Sam staggered a bit as he said, "You don't have to stay here. You can come help us with the research if you want." Everybody jumped when Dean pulled Mr. Schneider's string and he said, "That would be unwise."

Mike answered, "Yeah, uh, we're not allowed in the library anymore. Apparently we're too loud or something. Now where's my hat?" Suddenly a green wool hat flew to his hand. "Oh, thanks." He put it on his head and he and his friends started yelling and running around again.

"Man, this is ridiculous. How did you watch their show? Heyཀ" Dean clapped his hands and got their attention. "How about you guys go get some supplies for us? What do you think, Sam, rock salt and some quartz?" Sam shrugged, and the Monkees got ready for their trip to the store.

They started pulling the couch apart looking for spare change. Mike took Peter's piggy bank and broke it open to find a quarter and a piece of gum. Peter cried on Micky's shoulder and Davy patted him on the back, trying to console him. Eventually, they found enough money and piled out the door with a bemused Sam and Dean in tow.

"OK, here's the library," said Micky, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture and hitting Davy in the face. "Sorry. We'll see you back at the pad in three hours, right?"

"Yeah, sure," said Dean vaguely, looking up the steps at a pretty blonde in a miniskirt and tight blouse.

Sam elbowed his brother in the ribs and said, "Don't forget - five pieces of rose quartz and two pounds of rock salt."

They waved as the Monkees made their noisy way down the street. Sam shook his head at their wacky new friends as they entered the impressive public building.

"Feeling at home, Sammy?" said Dean as they made their way to the periodicals section. A little old lady librarian glared at them and pointed to a sign that said, "Be Quiet Please." He grinned at her as Sam steered him into the stacks.

"You find anything yet, Sam?" asked Dean as he approached their table with a new pile of newspapers.

Sam looked up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No. I hate this - no laptop, no Internet - we're living in the Dark Agesཀ" A couple of people looked up at this outburst and Sam gritted his teeth in what he hoped looked like a smile as they went back to their work.

"Dude, chill," hissed Dean as he sat down, his green eyes narrowed in frustration. "There's Beatles, Stones, Kinks - it's a great decade for anyone with taste. Besides," he said with a cocky grin on his face, "I think I may have found our ghost. Here – 'Local girl Valleri Sanders dies of heat exhaustion waiting outside local rock group's home--' that must be our buddies-- 'for autographs. Her parents have had her remains cremated and buried on the beach as per Ms. Sanders' wishes.' That figures."

"Let's goཀ"


	3. Chapter 3

Wow. I picked up a new reader! This is amazing; I never understood the high writers get from a review til now. You keep them coming, and I'll keep this coming.

And snfan228, I'm glad you're still enjoying this. Those songs get stuck in my head on an almost daily basis!

Enough babbling, on with the show!

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The sun was just starting to set when Dean and Sam arrived back at the Monkees' pad. The Monkees were out on the beach watching the sun falling into the Pacific Ocean in a spray of color as they joined them.

"That was nice," said Peter as they all went back to the house. Everybody agreed, and Mike opened the front door. Suddenly a couch cushion flew out and knocked them all down except Dean and Sam, who ducked just in time. They used the cushion as a shield as they entered, fending off a dancing Indian chief statue and TV stand.

"You got the stuff?" Dean asked as they reached the middle of the living room. Mike answered, "Yep," and threw a heavy paper bag to Sam. Sam took the quartz and made a circle around the height of activity.

Suddenly everything stopped. The Indian chief fell to its side on the floor, the TV stand settled down, and Mr. Schneider stopped bouncing into Davy and Peter at the back of the group.

Sam took the container of rock salt and ripped it open. He carefully poured the salt on the floor in curving lines, connecting the pieces of quartz into a complete circle. When he was finished, a young girl appeared in the middle of the circle, her brown eyes large behind her granny glasses.

"The author thought we needed a cute girl in this fic?" asked Davy, "not that I'm complaining."

Sam and Dean exchanged confused looks at this statement. Micky noticed and said, "I don't think they break the fourth wall on their show, Davy."

Before anyone could answer, the ghost girl shrieked in glee and tried to run to Micky, bouncing off the invisible force that kept her imprisoned in the circle. She bounced off of it, landing on her backside with a surprising THUMPཀ

"She doesn't look too menacing," Sam said, earning a look from Dean, Mike, Micky, Peter, and especially Davy. "What?ཀ"

"You have so much to learn about women, Sammy," said Dean, shaking his head.

"Especially teenage women in the presence of their favorite teen idol," said Peter, in one of his wiser moments.

"Namely Micky, I think," added Mike, gesturing in poor Micky's direction.

"Me?ཀ Why me, Mike? Why not Davy?ཀ" Micky was running around and waving his arms, making Valleri squeal in delight. This, in turn, made him run faster and so into his drum set, luckily only knocking over his cymbals with a crash.

"Me? Why me?" asked Davy as he pulled Micky to his feet.

"'Cuz it's always you," Mike said immediately.

Davy shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, whoever it is," interrupted Dean, "she doesn't belong here and we need to figure out how to make her leave, since burning the bones is out of the question."

The dead silence after this statement was broken not by Jiminy, Peter's new pet cricket, but by Valleri crashing against her confines and yelling, her big brown eyes turning a dangerous shade of purple.

"Don't talk to them like that, Colonel Bossy-Pantsཀ"

At "Col. Bossy-Pants," all the Monkees gasped theatrically. Sam and Dean rolled their eyes, and Sam saw an old poster for the Mickey Mouse Club on the wall. 'It's a crazy idea,' he thought, 'but crazy is what will probably work here.'

"Valleri, are you a member of a fan club of any kind?"

She blinked at Sam owlishly, her eyes returning to their normal shade of brown. "Well, I tried to join the Micky Dolenz Fan Club, but... this happened before the paperwork went through."

"How would you like to be founder and president of the Other Side's chapter of the Micky Dolenz Fan Club?"

"Me? President?" said Valleri, clapping her hands. "You really think I can?"

"Sure," said Micky, "you are my biggest fan, stalking me from beyond the grave."

"Furthest before you was just our neighbor Sara," interrupted Davy, "who lives two houses down with her mum."

"Davy, you shouldn't lie like thatཀ" said Micky with a nervous giggle, glancing at Sam and Dean to see what they thought. Evidently they were hiding their laughter well enough, because Micky cleared his throat and said, "I, Micky Dolenz, hereby dub thee, Valleri--" He looked around, and Sam mouthed 'Sanders' to him. "--Sanders, President of my Fan Club, Other Side branch." He attempted a complicated twirl of his drumsticks and immediately dropped them.

Everyone applauded, Sam and Dean not as energetically as everyone else, as Valleri saluted Micky with tears in her eyes. White light surrounded her as she yelled, "I won't let you down, Micky" and vanished.

When the white light enveloping Valleri disappeared, all four Monkees broke down in loud, wailing tears. Dean rolled his eyes and said, "Jeez, it's like a chick flick. Someone get me out of hereཀ"

"Easier said than done, Dean," said Sam, crossing his arms, "since someone decided to read a spell out loud without checking for a counterspell firstཀ"

As Sam's voice grew louder, the Monkees stopped their crying and headed in the brothers' direction, no sign of their recent grief in evidence.

"So you guys don't have special super powers?" asked Mike as Micky hugged Sam and Dean, making them both look uncomfortable. "I guess you guys aren't from _that_ far in the future, are ya?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. We're the Wonder Twinsཀ" said Dean sarcastically. The Monkees looked at each other in confusion as he continued his tirade. "Sammy: form of a bucket of iceཀ Me: form of a stupid green tigerཀ"

"You do realize that makes you the girl, right?" Sam's face was blank except for an incessant twitch around his lips.

"Well at least I'd have the cooler power," Dean snapped, wiping the smirk off Sam's face.

"I hope there won't be any more dead people in our house tonight," said Mike as the other Monkees exchanged looks. "It's a real drag, and what are the Wonder Twins?"

"Don't worry," said Dean, using the excuse to break eye contact with his brother. "I need Sammy to figure out how to get us home, and you'll find out about the Wonder Twins in about seven years."

Sam gave his brother a dirty look and said, "It's not that easy, and you know--"

"So we're in need of a brilliant idea?" said Davy, looking expectantly at Micky.

"Yeah, I guess," said Sam, confusion in his hazel eyes.

"I'll get it," said Micky, heading towards what had been the right wall of the living room. Now it led to an offstage area, littered with wires and lights and people in headphones, drinking coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, I got some new readers! Thanks, everybody, for all the awesome reviews! I'm glad you're all enjoying this. This chapter has an homage to a first season Monkees episode, I wonder if you know which episode! ;) On with the crack!

"Oh, manཀ"

Sam and Dean followed Micky, wondering where he would get a brilliant idea in all this mess.

"Your house change into a studio often?" asked Sam as Dean just stared.

"You mean yours doesn't?" shrugged Micky as he knocked on a door labeled "Author."

"Come inཀ" A muffled frazzled voice came through the thin wooden door.

Micky opened the door into paper chaos. Paper covered every surface of the room; some was even taped to the ceiling. The owner of the voice that had invited them in was under the desk, searching through the pile of papers beneath.

A hand thrust up suddenly, clenching a scribbled on piece of paper. "I knew it was here somewhereཀ"

A young girl with purple glasses followed, her dirty blonde hair messy from being combed only by her fingers.

It seemed to take her a while to remember she wasn't alone as she read over her notes.

"I'm sorry. What did you need?"

"Uh... a brilliant idea?" asked Micky. "You know, to send these guys home?"

She stared at him blankly for a moment, then started muttering to herself. "Monkees... Supernatural... where are they?" She dove into another pile of papers while Micky waited patiently and Sam and Dean looked ready to go after her.

"I've got them over here," said a new voice, making all three guys jump. This girl was sitting in a corner, her blue-green eyes amused.

"Oh, thanks, Sennaཀ" The author came to get it and started mumbling again. "All right... Chronus... Valleri... still need to fix that scene... A-haཀ Get Winchesters homeཀ"

"You should get more organized in here," said Dean, "then maybe you could tell us _how_ to get homeཀ"

Micky looked on nervously as Senna advanced on Dean menacingly, somehow seeming taller than she actually was. Her eyes also started glowing gold.

"I hope I'm not insulting you or anything," said Sam, "but why did you write a story where my brother and I go back in time and meet the Monkees?"

"Calm down, Senna," said the author absently, scratching her nose and leaving a smudge. "I don't need to be organized with her around, Dean. The idea actually kind of came from the fact that from one angle I thought you kind of looked like Micky a little bit. Oh, and you're getting home by Monkeemen powers. That good for you, Micky?"

Micky was openmouthed at this pronouncement, but no more than Sam at being compared to him. Dean started snickering as Micky shook himself and answered, "Yeah. That really was a brilliant ideaཀ"

"Well, I'm not a group of old Chinese men under a slave driver," she said smugly. Senna snickered, deflating her visibly. "OK, so I stole this from an old episode, Dean didn't need to know thatཀ"

"It's all right," Dean said quickly. "If this works, I don't care where you got the idea from. I might even kiss you if it'll get me out of this nuthouseཀ" The author gave a big smile that reminded them all of Valleri, and Dean gulped nervously.

"Well, we better get going," he said, pulling Sam out the door while keeping a careful eye on the author. "Thanks for your helpཀ" Senna laughed as Micky followed them quickly.

"Was she a fangirl?" asked Sam on the way through the studio, finally getting Dean off his arm. "I think I heard rumors of those at Stanford."

"Sammy, I'm so proud," said Dean, pretending to wipe tears away. "You finally learned the ways in which girls operate around boys."

They entered the living room just as he said this. Mike, Davy, and Peter looked at Sam in utter confusion, but he was forgotten as Micky related what the author had told them.

"Of courseཀ It's so obvious, it's brilliant," said Mike, slapping himself in the forehead.

"Yeah, why didn't I think of it?" Peter asked. Nobody answered, not even Jiminy, who was sitting on his shoulder.

"Well, let's find a telephone booth to change in," said Davy. They all looked around the living room, but no booth magically appeared. "All right, let's change in the bedroom then."

Before they went up the stairs, all four Monkees surrounded the Winchester brothers in a smothering hug as they cried, "Good byeཀ" Sam tried to pat them on the shoulders and comfort them. Dean tried until one of them used his shirt as a handkerchief.

"All right, boys, we'll miss you too. Will you please do what you need to so we can get home?" This stopped everyone dead. Eventually, the four Monkees, amongst sniffles and sobs, bustled upstairs, leaving two bemused brothers behind.

"You have any idea what it is they're planning on doing?" asked Dean when the music started seemingly coming out of nowhere.

"Take the last train to Clarksville..."

As the music played in the background, Mike, Micky, Peter, and Davy arrived on the landing, preening in their red spandex Monkeemen costumes with their bluish black capes. Peter tripped and knocked everyone all the way down the spiral stairs as the music continued in the background.

They dusted each other off and began cavorting around Sam and Dean in a circle. There was a puff of smoke as the Monkees started waving goodbye, Sam and Dean feeling like they were being flushed down a toilet again.

When the swirling sensation stopped, they opened their eyes to find themselves face down on the puke-green carpet of their motel room.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi, everybody! This is the last part, so enjoy it! I understand, snfan228. My classes are starting to kill me, too. I don't know what I'll do until Supernatural comes back.

And the episode was actually "Dance, Monkee, Dance" where Micky gets a brilliant idea from the writers.

I'll see you all soon!

"Those knuckle-heads actually did it," said Dean, getting up from the floor and brushing off his clothes. "I think I'm gonna miss them."

"I will, too," said Sam, sitting on his bed. "But if you do any spell like that again, I'm gonna kill youཀ"

"Oh, Sammy. I'd like to see you try." A well-aimed pillow hit Dean in the face, then knocked the window curtain aside to reveal a bright morning outside. "Not now, though. We need to leave before we're charged for another day."

"Fine. Let's get breakfast, I'm starving."

It wasn't long before they threw their duffel bags in the back seat of the Impala. The slam of the door woke up the office worker long enough for Sam to return the key as Dean started the car. He also managed to notice a strange headline on the worker's newspaper before he left.

As Sam climbed in the passenger seat, he told his brother about the headline in the newspaper he saw. Another ghost killing people, what fun.

Then Dean turned on the radio.

"Now I'm a believer

Not a trace of doubt in my mind"

They stared at each other in silence. Dean shrugged and headed out of the parking lot, turning the radio up until the song was over. Then, of course, he put in one of his Metallica tapes.


End file.
